Tears
by Silverfyshxin
Summary: [One-shot]We know three of the monarchs from Narnia's Golden age passed into the True Narnia. But what of the last queen? The one who was left behind.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N1: I'd just like to thank all those who reviewed this story in its previous incarnation for encouraging me with their words. This is for all of you.

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**_Tears _**

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_'Son of Adam, I am in all worlds. In yours, I go by a different name. You must learn to know me by it.'_

_-Aslan

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_'My sheep know my voice.'_

_-Jesus

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They wonder, every day, why she does not cry, does not weep, does not do, well, anything.

They do not know why she is always polite, always nice, always contained.

They would not be, in her place.

They whisper about her, when she smiles, brightly, as though it is an act that she has rehearsed so many times that it is almost natural to her. For little girls must grow up to become women, and childhood memories of a castle and kings ("And queens!" the Lucy in her head exclaims) must be locked away in the dusty drawer at the back of one's mind. And though her siblings never grew up, she must do so, and be wise and old and cynical and smart.

And yet…

Yet, Peter and Edmund and Lucy were happy. She never was, once the ancient toys of childhood were locked away. But _they_ were, and they had tried to make her remember too. They had stopped when she threatened to tell everyone that they were mad, and ought to be locked up. She had wanted them to go away, and leave her in peace, and let her grow up. She wanted them away.

And now, they are dead.

But they died happy, while she lives in heartache and anger and cynicism and weariness.

And while the turmoil roils within her, her smile remains bright, glassy. Her eyes are glazed, no tears form, no feelings can be found within.

She wonders if this is the cost of growing up.

And there is no Lucy to make her laugh, no Edmund to argue with. No Peter to look up to, no Mother to discuss dresses and jewellery and pretty things with. No Father to adore and fuss over, no Professor Diggory to laugh with. No Eustace to remind to stop being a slob, not even his friend Jane, no, Jill, to wave at in vague remembrance.

Aunt Alberta is worried for her, she knows. She may not have particularly liked Aunt Alberta before, or even now, but she has a good heart. She thinks hers is rotten, and cold, and unkind, and frozen.

Not like Lucy's.

Not like kind, softhearted Lucy who was always willing to listen to her troubles, whether it was with school or work or boys. She had not often talked to Lucy about it, as she knew Lucy did not quite approve of her constantly flirting with one boy now and bestowing her attentions on another the next moment. But Lucy was loyal, although Lucy had never been as pretty as she had, and Lucy had never told Father, who disapproved of it and did, no, _had_ not hesitated to voice his opinions on women who enjoyed themselves in that way. She had always considered father to be _dreadfully _old fashioned, but now she wondered if there was not a little truth to it. What was the point of it all now?

Edmund had once been like that. Not in the exact same way, of course, but Edmund had not cared how his behaviour affected others. She had once thought him small and petty for that. Then he had changed, after the incident at the professor's house.

She wondered why she still refused to think of it. Perhaps it was pride. Edmund had always relied on that excuse whenever Father had taken him to task for his behaviour. Now she was using it as a crutch. How had their roles reversed so drastically?

Edmund had grown up, but he still kept the faith. Why could she not? Her little brother had grown older, and he helped Lucy now, instead of hindering her. He studied diligently, and he studied law. He had wanted to be a lawyer. He had wanted to keep the peace and see justice come to the downtrodden, to the underdogs, whom he always insisted deserved a second chance.

Peter agreed with him. Peter the great, the loving older brother. He and Lucy were most alike, though she had often compared herself to him. She could see now that she was more like Edmund. But Edmund had changed. Edmund had grown. Had she not?

No, she had become stunted. She had left the childishness behind and forgotten all. Yet she had not seen that the faith her siblings kept was not childish, but _child-like_. They had trusted, but they had also matured. She had stayed stuck, unmoving and not growing. She had been too small, too petty, too weak to want to grow. She had relied on her charms to carry her through her troubles, and they had gotten her nowhere. Her siblings, they had relied on something else, something that had given them strength and always been there when they had needed it, and they had always needed it for support, and for the strength to keep the faith. They had kept the faith. And she had not.

And still her eyes were bright and glassy, as blue as a robin's egg. And the reflection one could glean from there was as deeper than the ocean now, when it had once been as a shallow lake. But no tears came.

She wonders if she has frozen so much that it is impossible to feel. She thinks that if she could have them back with her, only for a moment, she might begin to melt. Perhaps if she is good and kind, she will be able to see themagain.

The only problem is, she cannot remember how to be good or kind.

Eustace knew. He had changed, after Lucy and Edmund had returned. He became good and kind. He left behind the old Eustace Clarence Scrubb and became an altogether likeable person. She had begun to prefer then that he go back to the easy to manage boy he had been before. She sees now that he is more grown up than she has ever been. She sees many things now, that she never saw before.

Little snatches of memory have fought their way free of suppression. She remembers what it was like to wear beautiful dresses that looked and felt good. She remembers the princes who vied for her hand. She remembers her skill at archery. She remembers the beauty of Cair Paravel, and the loveliness of the Lantern Waste. She remembers Archenland, and the Lone Islands, and Calormene. She remembers the spirit of the land called Narnia.

And she remembers the great Lion who watches with loving eyes over Narnia is called Aslan.

She whispers aloud, "Are you taking care of them, Aslan, and left me here because I forgot? Have you forgotten me too?"

_**I will never leave you nor forsake you.**_

She whirls around. "Aslan?"

_**Take comfort, dear heart. I will never leave you nor forsake you.**_

"Where are you, Aslan?"

_**I am with you always. I have never left you before.**_

She wants to say, but I refused to remember. I refused to listen. I refused to think about you and listen to you.

_**But I have been with you still. Do you not see, dear heart, that I will never leave you. I never have, and I never will. You are the one who came to me with Lucy and cried over my body. You are the Queen of Narnia, the one who was called the Gentle and the Beautiful. You are my child, and I will never leave you. I love you.**_

I am mean and selfish. I don't think I can feel any longer. My heart has frozen over.

_**But I still love you, regardless. I will always love you, and because of that I will never leave you. Look…**_

She realises dimly that there is a large book before her, and realises it is the old family Bible that no one ever reads expect at Christmas.

'_For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son. That whosoever believes in him will not perish, but have everlasting life._'

But I lost the faith.

_**You had it once before. You did not lose it, only buried it deep within you so that it would not come out. I am known by many names in many worlds, dear heart, and in this world, I am Jesus. Son of Man and Son of God. And you believe in me, dear heart, unlike many who profess it only with their mouths and disbelieve it in their hearts. Being a Christian, one like Christ, is like being a queen of Narnia. You will always be one.**_

'_God is love._'

_**I will never leave you.**_

'_Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.'_

You are love, Aslan! You never fail.

_**And I will always be with you. Do not doubt any longer, dear heart. The nail scars on my hands are always there as proof. The veil is torn, and there is no longer any barrier between Man and God. And I will never leave you nor forsake you.**_

And like the breath of warmth that set the creatures in the palace of the White Witch free, she feels a warm breeze wash over her. And she feels her frozen heart melt and twist and shimmer back to life.

And finally, finally, Susan lays her head on the Bible and weeps the cleansing tears that soothe away her fears. And Aslan, Jesus, watches over her with loving eyes.

_**I will never leave you nor forsake you, Susan, for you are mine, and I love you.

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A/N: The last bit sort of ran away with me. I didn't mean to go into such detail into the Bible itself.

I never believed that Susan truly forgot. Not because Narnia is unforgettable (though it isn't), but because I believe that Susan wanted to grow up and leave everything she found childish behind. I find the idea that she suppressed her memories more feasible.


End file.
